an put to himself。 You read for your own pleasure； for your solace and strengthening。 Pleasure； then； purely selfish？ Solace which endures for an hour； and strengthening for no bat？ Ay； but I know； I know。 With what heart should I live here in my cottage； waiting for life's end； were it not for those hours of seeming idle reading？
I think sometimes； how good it were had I some one by me to listen when I am tempted to read a passage aloud。 Yes； but is there any mortal in the whole world upon whom I could invariably depend for sympathetic understanding？……nay； who would even generally be at one with me in my appreciation。 Such harmony of intelligences is the rarest thing。 All through life we long for it： the desire drives us； like a demon； into waste places； too often ends by plunging us into mud and morass。 And； after all； we learn that the vision was illusory。 To every man is it decreed： thou shalt live alone。 Happy they who imagine that they have escaped the mon lot； happy； whilst they imagine it。 Those to whom no such happiness has ever been granted at least avoid the bitterest of disillusions。 And is it not always good to face a truth； however disfortable？ The mind which renounces； once and for ever； a futile hope； has its pensation in ever…growing calm。
XXI
All about my garden to…day the birds are loud。 To say that the air is filled with their song gives no idea of the ceaseless piping； whistling； trilling； which at moments rings to heaven in a tri